


Cherry and Pineapple

by ifreet



Category: Life, Standoff
Genre: Community: help_haiti, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-14
Updated: 2010-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-12 09:47:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifreet/pseuds/ifreet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For sansets who requested Charlie/Matt for her help_haiti bid and likes accidental/oblivious dating stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cherry and Pineapple

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sansets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansets/gifts).



> With many thanks to sisterofdream for feeding me lines, betaing, and general awesomeness.

Given their jobs, people tended to assume Matt had met Charlie through work. Matt thought they might have become friends anyway had they met during a situation. Charlie wasn't overly concerned with credit as long as the job got done, so he wouldn't have balked too much at FBI taking over, and he wouldn't have held it against Matt. On the other hand, Charlie being Charlie, he'd probably have found a way to end up in the thick of things, so Matt's first words to him would probably have been some shouted version of "what the hell did you think you were doing, asshole?" Which was probably a surmountable first impression, but he was glad they didn't have to.

They met at a Farmer's Market. Emily had dragged him out of bed crazy early for a Saturday off, insisting it'd be fun. Matt suggested staying in would be more fun, but she was in determined mode, and it was too early to try to out-stubborn her, even if he'd wanted to waste the day fighting. They'd done enough arguing lately. In the end, she had been both stubborn and, worse, right about what would happen if she turned down another transfer, and since she was leaving anyway, he'd rather be missed than resented.

Plus, she'd promised coffee.

Even though it was insanely early (before eight), the Farmer's Market had drawn a decent crowd. Matt followed in Em's wake as she meandered from booth to booth, flitting around as the various offerings caught her eye. As he finished his coffee -- which had been nearly as good as promised -- he took the growing number of bags from her. He got the 'good boyfriend, sex later' look, and stood off to the side of the latest aisle as she continued shopping as though she'd never see a vegetable again once she arrived in Virginia.

That's when he noticed the guy really, truly _invested_ in picking out exactly the right tangerine. He leaned close over the crates, looking for all the world like a red-headed stork hunting breadcrumbs. Matt's lips twitched towards a smile. The man stood upright again, apparently responding to the vendor. After a short conversation, he handed her a folded bill, and she shook her head in a bemused fashion and waved towards the crate at the end. The man moved down and set his hands on his hips as he examined those tangerines. He picked one up, rotated it, and set it back. He picked up another, smelled it, smiled, and put it back. He gave the vendor a thumbs-up. Then he picked up the two tangerines back up, weighed them in his hands for a moment, and, turning for the first time to face Matt directly, tossed one.

There was a flash of light as he moved -- sun striking off the badge clipped to his belt -- and then Matt was automatically catching the flying produce. He looked back, and the guy was standing in front of him. "You were watching me."

"You were entertaining."

His eyes searched Matt's face a moment, then the guy shifted his balance back towards his heels. "I like tangerines."

Matt's mouth twitched again. "Yeah, it shows. Why these?"

"Soft, yellow-orange peel, strong citrus scent, heavy for the size, plus Janet says that crate was picked yesterday. Reese says I'm picky," he added in a confiding tone. "I don't think I'm picky."

Emily rejoined him, with another bag. She looked curiously from the guy to Matt. "Emily, this is Detective--"

"Charlie Crews," he supplied. He gave Matt his own curious look.

Matt pointed with his chin. "Badge. Charlie, this is my partner Emily." Emily elbowed him, and he put his arm around her waist -- Charlie's tangerine still in hand. He smiled. "And I'm Matt."

Charlie looked him up and down. "Federal?"

"FBI," he confirmed and frowned. "How'd you --?"

"You've got the look."

He had so much to say to that, that he stuttered over what to say first. Emily stifled a laugh into her hand. "I think I like him," she announced. Charlie turned his attention to her, and Matt tightened his arm around her, just a touch. She leaned into him.

Emily turned in his arm. "You should have him over."

"Em," he said.

"You know a more varied social life would be good for you." That was her psych textbook voice, and while it could be argued with, it usually wasn't worth the time to do so.

"Apparently," Matt said wryly, digging in his jeans for the wallet containing his business cards, "you should come over."

Charlie was faster, extending his own card between two fingers, taking Matt's and making it disappear. But then he supposed a detective would have more frequent cause to hand out his card than Matt did. "Okay."

Emily smiled at them. "Ready to go?" she asked Matt, and Charlie started walking away.

"Charlie," he called. Charlie turned, an eyebrow lifting questioningly. "Your tangerine?"

"Keep it," he replied, with a small, lopsided smile. "I've got a crate."

**

Matt was wet and cold and unhappy.

He left the command tent and headed for the barricades before he remembered he didn't have a car. Charlie had dropped him off, because Matt wasn't supposed to be working today, and they'd made plans. Charlie's car was faster, plus if he didn't have to drive, he could concentrate on the information Lia was feeding him. So he'd let Charlie drive and sent him off with an apology for the rain check. But now he had to find someone to take him back to his car.

A jacket settled over his shoulders. He startled but didn't let it slip off as he turned -- after all, it was warm. Charlie had walked up beside him. His eyes were amused. "Weren't you the one that said becoming one with the rain is taking a metaphor too literally?"

"I didn't set out to get soaked." _Unlike some_ , he added silently, watching rain make translucent spots in Charlie's shirt. He pulled the LAPD windbreaker closer. "I thought you went home."

Charlie gave the impression of shrugging without actually using his shoulders. "Home is where the heart is. I went there." He pointed to a coffee shop up the street.

Frank and Duff walked past, and Matt waited for the smart-assed remark when they saw him in Charlie's windbreaker. Frank nodded hello. Duff waved and said, "Hey, Charlie." They kept walking.

Matt frowned after them. He was wearing another man's jacket -- he'd expected at least a 'Princess.'

"You're done, right?"

Matt nodded, still working through the non-reaction, as the translucent spots on Charlie's shirt grew larger and bled together.

"Ok, long day," Charlie said brightly and started him moving with a hand to his lower back, letting it drop a few steps later. He wondered if Frank would have said anything about that and realized that Frank must have seen something similar any number of times, because he and Charlie touched all the time, and, no, he hadn't said a damn thing.

Not since that night at Sloan's when tactical had sent over a ridiculously pink and fruity drink -- a lot like the one that they'd sent when he and Em were first open about their relationship. He'd flipped them off to Frank's loud laughter, Charlie had eaten the cherry and pineapple garnish, and they'd both kept arguing about whatever they'd been talking about when the waitress brought the drink. Matt had promptly forgotten about it.

They thought he and Charlie were... Huh.

And Cheryl, just last week when he said he'd be bringing Charlie along to the party, she'd raised her eyebrow and said, "I'd assumed so." He'd figured that was because she knew about his post-Emily dry spell and that he'd be likely bring a friend instead. Maybe she thought he _was_ bringing a date.

"Matt?" Charlie was giving him that head-tipped bird look over the roof of the car.

"Yeah?"

"Did you want to get in?"

He blinked. They were at Charlie's car. "Right. Yeah."

Charlie got in the driver's side, glanced at him, but started the car without a word. Charlie pushed witnesses and suspects but usually gave people he actually liked space, because that's what he'd want. Matt could appreciate that, especially right now.

They did spend a lot of time together. But that's what friends did, and that had started before Emily had taken the teaching position at Quantico. Admittedly, they'd spent more time together after she left, but Matt had _had_ more time to spend with friends. And he liked spending that time with Charlie.

With Charlie, Matt didn't have to worry about getting grief over missing the game because a situation had come up at work. Charlie kept cop hours, too, so sometimes dinner was at eight, or nine, or ten, or 'hey, tomorrow?' but Matt always rescheduled. Charlie had this way of listening and of putting things together in new configurations -- whether the subject was baseball or work or fruit. Fruit came up a lot, actually. Charlie liked more than just tangerines, and 'liked' was probably a mild description of his relationship with fruit. He'd taken Matt out to his orchard once, one of the few extravagant purchases from the settlement. He didn't seem to touch that money much, but then it didn't take much to make Charlie happy. He'd been happy that day, with just a clear blue sky, rows of oranges, and Matt.

Charlie parked by the house. Matt ducked upstairs for a dry shirt -- he kept spare clothes here, and he hadn't thought that might _mean_ something? -- and when he came back down, Charlie was starting dinner. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, out of the way as he chopped.

"So, apparently we're dating."

Charlie looked up into some middle distance just beyond the meeting of wall and ceiling, then nodded. "I thought so." He went back to chopping.

Matt shook his head. Of course Charlie knew. "Were you planning on cluing me in?"

"No." Charlie cleared the cutting board into the pan using the back of his knife then set both down on the counter before turning to face Matt. "I thought you'd notice. Was I supposed to?"

"Hey, I'm just a crisis negotiator; I'm not a detective."

Charlie leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, and his whole expression asked if that was really the defense Matt wanted to raise.

Matt gave immediately. "Ok, fine, my job's not so different. But every crisis is about a broken relationship -- that's what I look for. And our relationship? It's not broken." When Charlie's body language began to relax, he added, "Though you could say I'm open to negotiations on taking it further."

"I don't know. You didn't even know we were dating," Charlie pointed out, but Matt caught the smile that preceded it. So he felt fairly confident of his reception as he stepped close to Charlie, set his hands at his waist, fingers slipping into belt loops to tug Charlie away from the counter.

"I catch up fast," he promised and pressed their lips together.


End file.
